


For I Cannot Tell A Lie

by qwertynerd97 (Daffidill23)



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Changelings, Gen, Mythology - Freeform, Pre-Canon, slight hints of ot3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28165695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daffidill23/pseuds/qwertynerd97
Summary: The Underhill is a wild place that few ever leave.  Some do escape, though, and not all of them are human.Or, as the team might say, let’s go steal humanity.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	For I Cannot Tell A Lie

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Wild Hunt Job](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227009) by [lady_ragnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell). 



> I took a few liberties with the classic Fae stories to help make the balance of the tale work. Mostly I just love the magical Leverage AUs so much.

Once upon a time, there was a falcon who rode with the Wild Hunt. She was faster than any peregrine falcon, and no prey ever evaded her once they were in her sights. In return for her prowess, the Hunt lavished her with anything she could want - except her freedom. And then one day, she fashioned a name for herself, a True Name, one that no one else in the Wilds knew. 

Now True Names are a powerful magic, and even more so when they are chosen by the one who bears them. With a True Name, secret and hidden, no jesses could bind her. The falcon stood up and shed her feathers, and then walked right out of the Wilds and into the land of the humans

She swanned in and out of the most secure vaults in the world, just to prove she could, just to show that nothing could bind her now. And though she never regained her feathers, she did not regret the change for a moment. After all, the rush of free fall off the side of a building was more glorious than any moment of flight.

Once upon a time, there was a Knight of the Seelie Court. He was a glorious vision in blued steel, always chivalrous to the ladies and free with the nectared sweets he made. And if some of those sweets dragged humans into the faerie circles, to dance until their feet and days bled, well, everyone knows it’s their fault for eating the Fae food. But no one ever questions what blood a Seelie might have on their hands; after all they are the light court. And then one day there was a changeling quest, and a human boy sobbing in his arms as his steed raced back to the Underhill, and the Knight decided that he could do this no more. 

It was more difficult, he discovered, to cook in the human realm - they had no nectar to sweeten the feasts. But they had spices: rosemary and sage and saffron and turmeric. The first time he was brave enough to let someone else eat his cooking, he nearly wept with joy when they ate the whole dish and then walked right out the door. 

He still took quests, of course, for what was a Knight who abandoned his sword? The humans called him a “retrieval specialist”, or a “hitter”, but it was all the same as the duties he did for his Court. It was, he decided, all about context. Underhill, his food was a year-and-a-day of blood, a payment-in-advance for services not offered. Here, it was a method of sustenance, a tool that others could turn away from at any moment.

Once upon a time, there was a human boy stolen by the Unseelie court. He grew up in that wicked and wild place, where words were as precise as contracts, and equally binding. It was not, all things considered, the worst childhood. His Nana taught him how to see the world as a tale to twist to his advantage, to scout for any opening that he could worm his way through. And then one day, he spotted a gap in the fabric of the Otherworld, and poked his way through it out into the human realm.

It was different there, more textured than the Otherworld, and the other humans lied with frequency and ease that he’d never seen. Computers, though, those made sense. Garbage in, garbage out, and though the language was different than what he was used to, it was just as binding.

He built himself a base, strung across the ever shifting networks of the Internet, and pretended he never felt homesick for the ceaseless changes of the Otherworld. But although he could wiggle through any hole on the web, write traps and contracts and honeypots around any other hacker, that was the one opening he could never find, for humans who leave the Otherworld do not get to return.

Once, or twice, or more upon a time, there was an honest man who did not believe in fairies. And there was a woman who had talked her way into a Boon, whose voice could mimic anything she wanted. But more than that, there was a falcon who found a nest that she could return to when the sky grew too large, and a Knight who found a court worth swearing to, and a changeling child who found the home he had been longing for for years. And of course, like all good stories, they lived happily ever after.


End file.
